Assassin's Creed: The Hugh Diary
by WhiteZephyr
Summary: If you've ever wondered what Walter Hugh was thinking during Agent of Altair, you'll find all his thoughts in here. Included is also a special preview of Suna's next adventure, coming once I've played Assassin's Creed: Revelations. That means very soon.
1. The Hugh Diary

Assassin's Creed:

The Hugh Diary

_**1746**_

__Ah! A new journal! Well, like I do in all my journals, I introduce myself. I am Walter Hugh Jr., also known as Walter Hugh II. I am twenty-two years old, and have two siblings. Father has died, but in my previous entries I'd explained all that.

Actually, I come here to write about something rather amazing. I hear that the man who killed my father, my very own uncle Baron Burnsley, was assassinated only a day ago! I know that it is unjust to be happy of death, but I cannot help but rejoice at the thought that my father has been avenged. Mother is happy, but she's known for not showing many emotions.

But I cannot help but wonder who could have killed him, when I swore to kill him with my own hands. It does not matter, I suppose. However, I will reward the person who did, and I will find them to do so.

I just hope that they aren't targeting the Hugh family.

I went to the Queen's ball tonight. It was a mask, so I took my favourite one that grants me luck with these sorts of things. Dear God, I met one of your angels tonight. An angel with golden eyes. I found myself trying to get her to dance, and yet she refused me. Now, normally, I would just leave her be, but I promised I'd be back. However, by the time I'd come back to the spot I'd met her, she was gone.

I have never been able to find a woman who made my heart leap as she had, and we'd barely spoken. She barely even looked at me! And yet I felt like she had been examining me. I have never seen her before in my entire life, but my instincts are screaming things at me that I find strange.

Firstly, she had many accents in her words, but it seemed like she'd been working hard to be rid of them. Syrian is rare to hear, but it is unmistakeable. Very, very little Turkish, though I cannot be sure. Italian is definitely there, as her "R's" roll sometimes.

I have asked my sister, Catherine (who seems to know everyone), and my brother James' girlfriend, Lily, if they know her. It seems that she is as much a mystery to them as she is to me…

What lies behind those golden eyes? What thoughts are running through that woman's head? I find myself constantly thinking of that rich, golden colour that seems to draw me in deeper as I picture them again and again.

Though I wasn't entirely sure, she seemed like the same person. The same confident air, the same serious expression, and I could even recognize her smell… the scent of vanilla, with a hint of cinnamon.

I am getting ahead of myself. I was gazing into my telescope at the star "Suha" when I heard the guards yelling. Someone clad in white was sprinting towards me, but it seemed that they hadn't seen me. As if my hand was guided by a force I am not entirely sure I understand, I reached out just as this person was running past, and used their momentum to turn them around and press them up against the tree I'd been standing beside.

I covered them in my black cloak that I always wore at night, and pressed myself as close to them and the tree close enough so I wouldn't feel uncomfortable. A few guards examined us from a distance, but went on their way soon enough.

I realized, as soon as they'd sighed, that it was a woman. Her white hood was shielding her face, so I couldn't get a good look, but it was enough.

"It seems your friends have left," I said. "I must say, I am surprised that they would chase a woman at night. I thought the guard had better things to do."

She sighed. "It seems not. Thank-you, sir."

"No problem." I backed away from her to let her out. "What would the world be like without Knights who save women running from guards?" I paused a moment, then added with a smirk, "Very well-armed women, might I add."

"Oh, sorry. Were you expecting me to have stolen their tea and biscuits?"

I chuckled. "No. That's stereotypical, my lady. I must take offence to that."

"You 'must'?"

"Because I am English, obviously."

"_No_, really?" She sighed, but smiled. "Well, thank-you, but I must be on my way."

I smiled back. "So soon? But I just started trying to be charming!"

Not a moment later, a gunshot nearly hit me in the shoulder, and it just barely passed by her cheek. She drew a silver blade on her back and taunted the guards, but as they attacked she only used the blade to defend herself. She got past them with such grace and skill that I was in awe, completely paralysed by watching the way her body moved and adapted. And yet, I was shocked, as the guards had revealed that it was this woman standing before me had murdered Baron Burnsley.

She replaced the blade onto her back and ran off, into the forest that the park had. I heard the gunshots, but I took my chance to escape, else I'd face something worse than the wrath of the guard.

The wrath of my mother.

I was out walking at night again. I heard the commotion, and as I ducked into an alley I spotted the woman in white running from the guards again. I timed it and shot my arm out, catching her and doing the same thing to her as I'd done only last night.

"Strange how we seem to continue meeting in this manner," I remarked as the soldiers ran past the alley that I'd had pulled her into only seconds before. "I seem to be very fortunate."

"I think, sir, that you are following me." She frowned at me. My cloak was shielding us both, and helping us blend into the darkness. "And that you are planning for these guards to chase me down onto routes you've specified."

"A serious allegation, from a murderer." I smirked at her as the last of the guards passed by the alley. "Still, I believe I should thank you. Baron Burnsley killed my father and got away with it because of the help in Parliament. Had you not killed him, I would have… eventually." I glanced at her shoulder, where there was a blood stain, no doubt from the previous night. "You were wounded?"

"It was just a bullet. Nothing to worry about." She shuffled out of my cloak and breathed in the night's fresh air. "I need to get going. Thank-you, again. But I'm not going to hang around to get shot by those guards again."

For just a second—one brief, beautiful second—I caught a glimpse of her eyes. Her hood, slightly lowered from brushing against my cloak, was hanging off her head from an odd angle, and she was fixing it quickly. I wasn't even sure if she'd known that she was doing it, because her eyes were so far-off. But those eyes were the ones that had haunted me from the moment I met them. And now that I had the time to look, I could see that they weren't just golden, but liquid-gold, almost like the beautiful swirls were moving ever so slowly.

Before she could run out of the alley, I grabbed her wrist. She turned to look at me, a curious look plastered onto my face and hers. "Your eyes are a curious colour, did you know?"

She told me that she did, and even though I warned her against it, she scaled the wall with such ease and dropped off the edge onto the other side. I was worried for her, and so I quickly sprinted to the other side. A haystack was right where she'd dropped, so at least she'd landed safely, but she was nowhere to be seen.

The girl with the golden eyes was the girl in the white hood… Somehow, it seemed so right.

It seems that fate will not allow me to stop seeing her. When I was taking a stroll by the river, I saw something float past me. Curious, I followed it and saw it wash up on shore not far from where I'd first seen it. Upon closer inspection, I found that it was the girl with the golden eyes.

Her eyes were closed, and she was barely breathing. In a panic, I scooped her into my arms and carried her to my home, Hugh Manor. As I write, the doctor is in her room and forcing the water from her lungs. I wonder if she will be all right, as she was cold when I felt her skin.

This will be a quick entry, as I want to watch over her. Meredith has forbid me from going into a ladies' room when she is not dressed decently, but she was not very specific about what "decent" meant. I think I will bring a book along as well.

Oh, and I've hidden her weapons around the manor, save for her silver shortblade. It is a beautiful blade, and considerably old. It must have been in her family for generations. I wonder…

I was, indeed, reading when she started to stir in her sleep. The doctor had easily gotten all water from her lungs, even though he'd told me that the amount was incredible, and she should have died. I figured that she was rather lucky. First a bullet in the shoulder, and then enough water to drown.

A few moments into our conversation when she'd awakened, she finally realized that I was the one who'd asked her to dance at the Queen's mask before. We bantered back-and-forth before Meredith, the arguable head-of-the-household, shoved me out of Sara's room.

Right, I forgot. During our conversation, we'd introduced ourselves. Her name is Sara. Sara Taylor. Somehow, it seems that she is… unused to her own name. But it fits her well.

Anyway, I was taunting her when she came into my study with the shortblade. She and it seem to go together well, as they're both short, and I was dangling the blade just out of her reach. Of course, this was after she'd met my little sister, Catherine. And after Meredith forced her into a dress, which she was clearly uncomfortable in. But I hadn't really examined her before, so as I was taunting her, I got a good look at her. It seemed that she was used to frowning, but always smiled whenever she was embarrassed, like it was an impulse rather than she was actually smiling. Her hair was a deep brown colour, with surprising red highlights that you would have to see to believe. She is short-tempered, though she seems good in nature, and she hasn't attacked any one of us yet. Well, save for me, when she finally got so frustrated that she flipped me to the ground and caught her shortblade as I was falling. And then she dragged me around my home and demanded I show her where her weapons were.

Strangely, Catherine asked Sara if she was my new girlfriend. I admit, I had courted women, but I wasn't really interested, and I'd done virtually nothing with them. So, I guess I'd never had a girlfriend before. Hm.

She stayed for supper. Of course, mother wasn't at all thrilled, but she was nicer than usual. James made up for that rudeness, but I covered for him. He's very lucky that he has a brother like me, or else everyone he met would despise him.

Mother and Sara were exchanging a painful conversation, which was fun to listen to. When I finished my meal, I excused myself from the table and complimented Sara. I think I am doing this simply to bother her, at this point, as I feel joyous when her face becomes red as an apple. She is very easily flustered, so I should keep that on note. God, am I ever a villain?

Only a few minutes after I'd left, Sara said she was leaving. I found myself asking her to stay in my home. I feel like an idiot, however. Why am I making her stay here? Am I being selfish, as I try to keep those golden eyes, and that alluring smile, to myself? Or am I merely being a nuisance?

One thing is for sure: I want to know Sara more.

I'd decided to play a few more tricks on Sara. I grabbed a bucket of water and brought it up to her room quietly, trying not to wake either Sara of Meredith up. I paused at her bedside though, as it looked like she was too deep in sleep to know if I was actually coming towards her or not. Which was strange, because I was sure she was one of those people that were impossible to sneak up on.

But I put the bucket down as I saw she was having a nightmare. It was easy to see, as she looked like she was in pain. Unconsciously, I stroked her arm up to her shoulder, where I felt a scar there. I had no idea that someone who looked so… I don't know. I can't describe it. I had no idea that she had gone through anything. Then again, why did she kill my uncle? How did she become so well-rounded with weapons? She carries so many! My curiosity rises each time I look at Sara, but I have no way to sate it unless she tells me herself.

She started to stir awake, and so I grabbed the bucket of water again. She opened her eyes and saw me, and I guess she was startled, as she shot out of bed and her head slammed against the bucket. The sheer force of her head (which was strangely solid) and flipped the bucket into the air. Sara was completely soaked! And the bucket had landed perfectly on her head. I honestly thought she was going to kill me, but alas, she smiled and laughed.

And then she got this distant look in her eyes, as if she was thinking of the past. Even behind that smile, I could see the pain. A good memory, but painful, it seemed. If Meredith hadn't barged into Sara's room then, I would have asked Sara about it. And yet, it seems that Meredith has taken a liking to Sara. A mother/daughter kind of thing, I assume. She must enjoy dressing Sara up…

But I did ask Sara to walk around London today. I was thinking of taking her to the fair, and I had suggested it, but it seems that it is still being prepared. Some of the jesters haven't arrived yet, and, of course, they're vital to the performance of everyone there. Ah well. I guess I'll just take her for a stroll then.

I'd told Sara of my father when we were walking. She was a very good listener, despite the fact that seemed to have something on her mind at the time. That far-off look was on her face again, with the same pain hiding behind that smile. What of her own father? When mother'd mentioned Sara's father, she acted like he wouldn't have cared.

Or was it that it simply didn't matter?

Well, I got my first glimpse of the brave side of Sara. A fire had started in a home, and from the reports now, it seems that one of the lamps fell and landed on the kindling for the fire. The house erupted into flames immediately. We heard the screams first, and I looked at Sara, wondering if she wanted to continue on. She looked at me, and then started sprinting towards the screaming. I didn't know she could move so fast! And in a dress! I fought hard to keep up with her, but I managed to keep pace. We reached the house in only a moment, and before I could even stop to catch my breath, Sara continued running and leapt into the flames.

I said I had my first glimpse of the brave side of Sara. Well, both brave and stupid. I screamed her name as the debris started to fall. A woman was shoved outside just as I was trying to get in, and we both fell over onto the cobblestones. The doorway was blocked now, so I had to find a different way in. I circled the house and found a terrace with stairs, with a child outside, obviously trying to get back into the house. A small explosion rattled me and covered me with ash, but I grabbed the child and brought her down the stairs. Just as I handed her to the woman I'd bumped into, I heard a crash and covered my head from the glass. An explosion soon followed, and as I looked, I saw Sara hit a rooftop and then fall to the ground.

My heart stopped. Was she dead? Was she okay at all? My mind became clouded with questions, but then Sara turned over and showed a baby that she had in her arms. She'd saved it from the flames. Firefighters who'd just arrived on the scene quickly took the baby from her, and then focused on getting the fire out before it could spread. I walked over to Sara and touched her arm, which had steam rising from it. The heat of the flames had burnt her; her hand especially so. I took her in my arms, and heard her grunt in pain. For a moment—one brief moment—she opened her golden eyes and looked at me. They were clouded in confusion.

"Sara, you're going to be okay," I told her, unsure if she could hear me. "I'm so sorry, Sara! I'm so sorry."

Her eyes closed. I panicked and started running. We must've looked like quite the pair, but I got her to Hugh Manor relatively quickly and immediately called for a doctor. Meredith poured ice water onto her and forced me out of Sara's room again, so she could prepare for the doctor.

So now I'm writing. What came over Sara to go into that building? God, don't let her go! Not yet! Not when my heart is tearing apart at the mere thought of never seeing those golden eyes, of never seeing her smile freely and not painfully! I am not a perfect man, and I most certainly am not a very good one, but please don't hear my request with a deaf ear!

I must sound crazy. I'm just going to leave now. I want to see how Sara's doing…

I guess my hand moved on its own again. I was holding her hand, as I noticed she was having another nightmare. She calmed soon, and then she gasped and sat up. I reflexively took my hand away, feeling a bit embarrassed.

But Sara didn't seem to have noticed. She got out of the bed and stumbled, but I'd already gotten out of my seat and caught her as she fell.

"For God sakes!" I exclaimed. "Sara, you can't get out of bed right now! You're recovering!"

She tried to support herself again, but I took advantage of her uselessness and laid her back in the bed. Sara tried her best to smile, even though I could tell it hurt.

"Why is it… that you are always… at my bedside when I… wake up?" she managed to say. The smoke in her lungs had affected her speaking. I hoped it wouldn't forever be like that.

"I need you to see a devilishly handsome face when you wake up so I can brighten your day a little, obviously," I quipped, smirking. Why I said that, I do not know. "Who knows what would happen if you didn't see one? You'd go positively mad!" And I continued it. Great. I could already see her hitting me in the face.

"Yes. I probably would." She closed her eyes. "I'd probably… run into buildings… that happen to be… on fire."

I put his finger on Sara's nose, like I'd done before we went to town. It'd been a few days, to say the least. "Possibly. But you must stay in bed and recover. The doctor said, by the extent of the burns, it will take a month for you to be back on your feet by yourself."

She shook her head, but painfully. "That won't do. Please, Walter… get me some water. I… heal better with it… in my system."

I was curious to say the least, but I complied and got her a glass. Heals better with it? I didn't get it. I still don't. I gave her the glass and then we made a bet. I had to admit it was amusing. Two days? Two days to heal from those burns? Oh, we'll just see, Sara Taylor. You've over-estimated yourself.

Okay, I'm a grown man. I admit I was wrong. Sara healed within two days, as I discovered when I went into her room again (though she is trying to forbid me from coming in without knocking).

And so, I awkwardly tried to help her put on a shirt, since her shoulder was hurting. She said that it must've been a bullet, but she said like it was no big deal. It took all my power to stop myself from flicking her in the forehead for how much she didn't seem to care about herself. Running into a fire? Bullet wounds? And those scars only make it worse.

When I asked her about her scars, she only gave me one answer, obviously not wanting to get into it. An arrow? But we've been using guns since the late fifteenth century! Is Syria still that out-dated?

After making fun of her for a while longer (by taking her shortblade again, incidentally), she flipped me again. And then I showed her the paper, and she didn't seem in the least surprised that the burning home was the main topic. Actually, her mind seemed to wander as I talked about the girl trying to get back into the house, obviously trying to save her little sister. In her face was that distant look again, but she didn't hide it behind a smile. She looked broken and sad. Hurt. I wished—wish—I could help her. But what could I do? She will not open up and talk about her problems. Is it because she does not wish to burden any of us?

And then Catherine paired us up for a ball. Oh, goody. I could already see how much Sara would resist, but Catherine had none of it. I think both Meredith and my mother got to Catherine a bit too much. Maybe because she's the only girl in the family.

On the way to Buckingham Palace, Catherine's boyfriend, Henry, was being an ass as usual. I'm not entirely sure if he can actually be kind, and I have no idea why Catherine is still with him, but its her decision, I suppose. Henry had the nerve to call Sara "God-less"! I couldn't believe it! The first thought I had in my head was that no one else in the world had someone looking over them as much as Sara. She's the luckiest person I know! How else would she be able to live from so many near-death experiences?

My mother, surprisingly, was the one to shut Henry up. On the plus side of this night, I got Sara to dance with me. Many times. It seems that with her "training", as she calls it, she can move better than the women who actually know how to dance. She allowed me to guide her, and I feel like she actually opened up a bit. And she was smiling. Truly smiling. My heart did leaps and bounds when I saw it.

I learned a bit more about Sara. She had foster-parents, as she did not know her own. They took her in and gave her a family. She had two younger brothers, and an older sister. They have all passed-on. So, this is one of the reasons why she is always so sad? I cannot even think what I would do without one family member, much less all of them. I feel like I have to be there for her.

Which makes me wonder, my faithful journal, you who I tell all my secrets, all my sadness, all my joy… This makes me wonder if I am a man in love. Am I? I cannot say. Isn't love something gradual, and takes time? I've known Sara for only a few short days. Is this something that will only last for a short time, and mean nothing later? I hope it doesn't. I hope with all my heart that Sara can see me as a man. As Walter, as I see her as Sara. I am confused, and I fear I cannot ask anyone but my brother about it.

We got back from the palace about two hours ago. I'm going to ask James what he would think if I courted Sara. I can trust James to be honest and voice his opinion. Please, James, help me. I might suffocate.

It's been an hour since we were attacked. James and I were sitting on the sofa, and I'd just talked to him about Sara. He told me it was a bad idea. But I wonder if I shouldn't follow what I think, and not what he does. I cannot tell. My mind is in shambles right now.

But we were crouching behind the couch in fear for our lives when gunfire tore through the home. Sara, surprisingly, had those strange blades around her wrists and called to us. I hadn't heard her, but James did. James let me know that she was there, and even though my first impulse was to go to her, I couldn't leave my younger brother. I made him go first.

I didn't even notice the men until it was too late. I saw the spears coming at me from nearly every direction, but I was frozen to the spot. It was my fear. It was too much for me. I'm a coward, aren't I?

Sara shoved me out of the way and was stabbed seven times, the spears potrouding from her body in fourteen different places. I was horrified. It looked like her eyes glazed over for a moment. I was so scared for her, already blaming myself.

They grabbed her and tossed her at me. She rolled awkwardly, but as I stared she grabbed hold of my shirt's collar and looked me right in the eye, her gaze piercing my very soul as I could feel the hate coming from her. Hate for those men.

"Help. Me. Up."

I couldn't believe it. I did what she said, unsure of what else I could do had I not.

"Don't say something stupid like, 'I wish to die on my feet'," I told her quietly. I had no idea why that was the only thing that could come to my head.

"I… won't die." She looked at James, her gaze unwavering. "This is… my fight. I… will handle this."

She pulled away from me as my brother stepped back. I didn't know why he was listening to her, or how she could find the strength to even stand. I could swear that one of the spears were through her heart, but I could not be sure.

In a quiet exchange of words, Sara said that it was smart that she was fighting them, and not either of us (meaning James and me). I felt useless and powerless.

I could only watch her. She ignored the pain and got the spears out of her, and then she brought the fight outside. Caught out of my daze, I started to go after her when James grabbed my sleeve.

"What're you doing?" I hissed. "She'll die!"

James shook his head. "I can't tell you why right now, but I'm honour-bound to listen to her request. After all, she said she wasn't going to die, right?"

"I'm not taking that chance, James!" I snapped.

"You really care for her that much?" James frowned, but I recognized that frown. "Fine. Do what you will, brother. But I think the fight's already done."

James released me and I jumped out the window onto the ground. Sara was lying on the ground near the two armoured men that had followed her out. She was bleeding because of the spears, but no other wounds were evident on her body. I brought her up to her room quickly and got her some water, forcing it down her throat. She'd mentioned that she healed better with it. I only hope that it was all she needed.

"Sara…" I found myself caressing her face. "Don't die on me, Sara. Please."

She woke up only a few days after her ordeal. I wanted to see her. I went to her room, but found I was unable to open it. Something was blocking the door. So I sat beside it, hoping I would hear her move whatever it was.

Why hadn't she come out yet? I didn't know. James had cleaned up the manor and told our family a lie. Why? To protect Sara? What from? I wanted to be there beside her, but I wasn't sure if I could make her feel better or worse.

So, I decided to find out. I circled the house and climbed up to her window, but it was shut tight. Unable to think of what to do, I stupidly hung there. And then Sara opened the window, and I smiled.

"You finally opened your window!" I exclaimed. "I've been hanging there for nearly ten minutes! My arms hurt!"

It looked like she couldn't even think about a sentence to say, she was so shocked. I looked at her hood, her weapons, and then a note and money on the bed.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question, but a statement. And yet, I hoped I would not get the answer I knew I would be receiving.

Sara nodded slowly. "I've… caused you enough trouble. I really should—."

"You're wounded. You need to rest!" I could only think of what my life would be like without her. She'd brought so much excitement into it, and kept me constantly on my toes. Would she listen to me?

She sighed. "Fast healer, remember?"

I frowned and jumped down from the windowsill into the room. "Sara, I know you. You're thinking it's all your fault that this happened, but you saved my life. I'm not going to forget that. I owe _you_ now."

"I'm leaving. You couldn't repay me if you wanted to."

I smirked. "I'm gifted, remember? Charm, good looks, extreme wit…"

"But I think you should get a refund on that ego of yours."

Oh God, how she could make me smile! I put his finger on her nose. I didn't really get why I liked Sara's nose so much. "I think you're a witch, Sara."

"Well, aren't you nice?"

I laughed. "No, you're not getting it!" Sara was going to say something, but my finger moved from her nose to her lips to quiet her. "Witches cast spells, yes?"

She nodded, her face slowly turning red and her hand starting to reach to grab my arm.

But she didn't even get close, as I moved closer to her. "I think you've cast a spell on me, Sara. When I'm away from you, it feels as if I will die. But if I'm close to you, my head feels like it will explode! How much longer are you going to make me endure? You saved my life, Sara, in more ways than one."

It took us both a second to realize that we were up against the wall. "W-What are you saying…?"

"You really haven't done anything like this before then, have you?" I smirked, remembering that I hadn't either. "I guess I'll show you what I'm saying."

And so, I kissed the girl with the golden eyes. I think I've sealed my fate, somehow. But you know what?

She kissed back.

Sara had left for "work" a day after our intimate moment. I was walking, hoping dearly that I'd run across her. Well, as per usual, it was my lucky day.

I came across a hooded person hanging from a building my their ankle, as it was wrapped in a rope, and it looked like they were having problems untangling themselves. I couldn't help but chuckle softly as I headed down the alley they were in.

"I'm going out on a limb here and guessing it's you, Walter," Sara said.

I laughed. "How'd you know?"

"You're the only person in London who cuts through alleys," she told me. "Um… Can you help me down?"

I spun her around so she was facing me, only upside-down. "No. I think I'll let you suffer here."

"What? You cazzo bastardo! Spero che tua madre ha un attacco di cuore!"

"Talking in Italian does seem to get your anger out a bit, does it not?" I smirked. "And no, please don't wish for my mother to have a heart attack. She'll come back from the dead to continue to nag at me, and I can't say I'd be overly fond of an undead mother."

Sara frowned. "Could you please cut the rope?"

"What do I get in return?"

"I won't kick your ass."

I smiled. "I think I'll pick my reward, thank-you."

"Then what—?"

God, how I love to kiss her. I pressed my lips against her and felt her melt into it, like she had the previous night. She was innocent, as far as kissing went. Not so innocent when it came to violent acts, I'm sure.

Sara finally pulled away from me, so I cut the rope swiftly and caught her in my arms. She tried to get me to put her down, but I refused. I liked to carry her. She was so small, and probably looked smaller still with me. I liked the feel of her head relaxing on my shoulder, and the fact that none of her weapons were drawing blood from anywhere on my body. Over-all, it was a lovely night.

"The world seems to change quickly," I told her quietly as we gazed out at the night sky through the window in her room. "Look—do you see that? The birds are already heading south. Winter's coming."

"It changes far quicker than that," she told me, sighing. "It used to be that people fought with honour. We used to fight face-to-face. Now we have these guns, and you kill your enemies without looking into their eyes. It seems so… barbaric. And the cities have grown, both in culture and in people. Soon, it will not take a few days to reach another place, but a few hours."

"I can't imagine that happening for a while yet," I remarked. "I prefer to live in the moment."

"It depends on how many moments you have left."

I wrapped my arms around Sara's waist and sat on the windowsill. "Then I will make the best of _this_ moment, Sara Taylor."

"I think you've been planning this," she said. "Well-played."

"What can I say? I'm notorious for my way of thinking."

"And yet I wonder if you can think at all."

"Ah, but Miss Taylor, you wound me with your cruel, cruel words." I grinned and lightly kissed her. "I must take offence to that."

"And again with that line."

I smiled. "Then I'll think of another one. One that makes you blush so violently that I'll have to check if your heart beats still."

"No fair. I blush easily."

"Only when I make you feel awkward." I pulled Sara closer. "Strangely enough, you seem comfortable here."

"I think I'm getting used to how you move."

I arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" I pulled me towards the bed, and then sat on it, putting my body in the corner of the wall while sitting on it, then I invited Sara to join me.

"I have weapons, you know," she said.

"I know." Sara rolled her eyes and laid her head on my shoulder. "I think I was right," I said.

"Right about what?" Sara asked.

"I told myself I'd wait for the right girl, and I'd know her when I saw her. I didn't want to rush into relationships like many people." I sighed, my heart suddenly feeling… strange. "I think I was right to wait. I'm not happy with how long I've waited, but I'm relived that I've finally found the one."

Sara's hands had somehow found mine. "I've spent my life fighting. I'm not sure if I could settle down. I've pictured every kind of death I could have, and dying as an old woman in a rocking chair has never really come to mind."

"If I were immortal, I'd stay with you forever."

Sara's mood seemed to change in an instant. "Don't wish for something as horrible as that. You should live life as it was meant to be."

"Are you saying that, if you were immortal, you'd leave me?"

"No!"

I pressed her lips against mine again and smiled. "Then what are you saying?"

"You made me lose my thoughts, sir." Sara's eyes closed. "I just… It's like wishing to walk on water. You would only see the sky, when you could see so many amazing things under the water."

"I think I get it." I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and lightly kissed the scar on her shoulder. "I can tell you're tired. Get some sleep. You've worked too hard."

"I can never work hard enough," she told me, smiling. "But… I may just… rest my eyes for a moment…"

When we woke up in the morning, I had to scramble out of her room, as Meredith was actively searching for me. Sara joined me for a walk outside, pretending that we'd gotten up early just to do so. When Meredith got her hands on Sara, she forcefully dragged her up the stairs to "turn her into a proper lady".

Oh, how this household has evolved. Without Sara here, we'd still be frowning, and mourning for my father. Well, yes, we are still in mourning, but Sara seems to make it easier. That's just one of her qualities that she seems to forget she has.

I'd heard nearly all the conversation that Sara had with one of her colleagues. I knew she was to meet her, but… God! I charged up to her room as fast as I could, intent on stopping her.

"Damn it, Sara!" I cursed. "Don't go!"

"I have to. This is something I have to try to put an end to."

I frowned and held Sara in my arms, holding her as close as I possibly could. "_Please_…"

She pressed her lips against mine. "I'm sorry, Walter…"

I rested my head on top of hers and then kissed it. "I… I don't want you to go, but if you must, then please try to come back!"

"I'll try." Somehow, her words didn't console me at all.

"I love you, Sara Taylor," I whispered.

I could tell that she wanted to make the best of that moment, but somehow, she couldn't. "I love you, Walter Hugh. Until the day I die."

I pushed my favourite red scarf into her hands. I'd had it since I was a boy, but it was in excellent condition. "For the winter," I explained. "We can share it when you come back."

She gripped it in her hand tightly and kissed me one last time. "I love you," she said again.

And then she ran. And here I am, writing about this. I couldn't stop her. I watched her go. I have that sinking feeling in my stomach. I know something's wrong, and yet I cannot do anything about it.

What am I going to do?

It's been three weeks! Sara hasn't returned. I won't give up on her! I know she's out there somewhere. Maybe something terrible happened? Oh God, Sara… You've gone through worse, I'm sure! Just please, hurry back!

And here I am, writing in my journal as if I'm speaking to her directly. I guess that goes to show just how much I miss her. James keeps giving me these looks, as if he's… sorry. What could he be sorry about? Does he know something? Ugh! This is driving me mad! I'm sleeping in the bed she slept in, as if she'll come through the window and wake me up, telling me to get the hell out of her bed.

It still smells of her. I don't think its ever going away. Even though Meredith's washed the sheets, its still there. I think it's a reminder of what we had. It'd only been a few days that we'd known each other, and yet it felt like an eternity. I knew her. I knew how she moved, I knew her reactions, I knew _her_, as a person.

We were made for each other. Of this, I'm sure.

_**1755**_

__I could have sworn that, today, I saw a bit of white by my window in the living room. I was watching my child play when my wife came in, kissed my cheek, and then started to tend to our child.

I saw it—from the corner of my eye—a glimpse of white fabric. I immediately left the room and ran to the door, a stupid grin plastered onto my face. But as I swung the door open, no one was there.

I never forgot Sara. I never will. I moved on, mostly because of my mother's wishes, but because I felt like Sara would have wanted me to do so as well. She was that kind of person. My wife looked at me strangely, and yet I couldn't meet her eyes. I walked up the stairs to Sara's old room, now vacant for good, laid down on her bed, and I started writing in this old journal of mine. I bought a new one without realizing I'd never finished writing in this one. Then again, maybe this should be my journal where I put all of my thoughts of Sara into it. I don't want anyone snooping through my things one day and flipping through my actual journal to find that I'm still in love with another woman.

Sara, have you moved on? If so, where? Are you even still alive? One day, I hope I will see you once more. I still love you, Sara Taylor.

_**1776**_

__This will be my last journal entry. Ever. I am in my deathbed, thirty years after meeting Sara Taylor. I am an old man now. I have lived my life. I have lived through love, through pain, through joy and sorrow. I have lived as a man, and as a man I shall go into God's arms.

I asked my daughter, Sara, to get me this journal. I hid it cleverly inside the mattress in Sara Taylor's old room. As you've probably guessed, Sara—my daughter—her namesake is Sara Taylor. She's stubborn and quick-witted, as Sara was. I can only think of my old love as I lay here, waiting for death.

I wonder Sara, if you'd died thirty years ago, will you be the angel that takes me to God? Or, if you're still alive and sitting quietly in your rocking chair, will I beat you there? If I beat you there, Sara, I will be sure to help you find your way to God when it is your time as well.

But Sara, something tells me that you will live for a long time yet. If that's the case, then I will beg God to give me a second chance—to give _us_ a second chance. I will try to be reborn, and maybe, if luck be on my side, I will see you again. We will be young and in love once more. And this time, we'll be together. I could wait forever, Sara. If I have to, I will.

I've missed you, Sara. One day, I'll be there for you. I'll be the one to save your life. I owe you that much.


	2. Author's Notes

Author's Notes:

I'll keep this short. I recently had a poll on what my best romance was, despite there only being two romances. I only got one vote. Ah well. So, I decided to make this for the people who stuck with _Assassin__'__s__Creed:__Agent__of__Altair_ until the end, and supported Suna through all the shit I put her through.

Now, I've got plans for Suna yet, so don't worry. In less than a month, I'll have Suna's next adventure posted. What is the title, you ask? Well, here it is: _Assassin__'__s__Creed:__Bladesong_. Keep an eye out for it! To whet your appetite for more _Assassin__'__s__Creed_ action, I've got a special preview of _Bladesong_ right here, and you won't find it anywhere else!


	3. Special Preview

_**Special Preview:**_

Assassin's Creed:

Bladesong

Prologue

_**1509**_

__I guess I was kinda selfish, leaving Ezio to clean up after the Borgia. But, then again, I had stuff to deal with. Once again, I examined the letter that'd been sent to me by the leader of the Assassin's Guild in Constantinople, Yusuf Tazim. It told me that Masyaf had been overrun by Templars during the time that I'd gone.

I groaned and then shifted the weight of the little bag that was slung over my shoulder—the one with my belongings. I had all my weapons with me. Equipped, of course. My silver longsword, my silver shortblade, my double hidden blades, throwing knives and hidden gun. Not to mention a few extras that I'd gotten on my journey.

I was wearing what I always wore: white Assassin robes with a red streak here and there, only, for the first time in a while, my hood was lowered. I allowed my short brown hair to actually breathe for a bit, while my golden eyes scanned the docks of Roma. I needed a charter, and I needed it immediately.

With no luck for a few hours, I was grumpy. The only thing that'd really help in that kinda of a situation would be a good brawl.

And I knew exactly where to go.

Within about an hour of navigation through the tunnels of Roma, I came upon the Mercenary barracks, where there was sure to be a fight going on. I entered the barracks quietly and placed my bag on the table before I went downstairs. The putrid smell of blood and ale swam through the air, where many Mercenaries were circled around an arena, cheering on their favourite man. I sighed in relief, feeling more at home than I had in a while.

"Can I help you?"

I looked behind me to see Bartolomeo d'Alviano, the man who I'd saved the day of Ezio's birth, and whose last name I'd "borrowed".

"Si," I said. "I'd like to fight."

Bartolomeo grinned. "Well, I would not want you to get your pretty face beaten to a pulp, perdere, but it is your decision."

"I'd like to fight," I repeated sternly.

Bartolomeo nodded and shouted loudly to one of his Mercenaries. The man laughed but welcomed me into the ring.

"You have to remove your weapons and armour," Bartolomeo told me. "The rules apply to everyone, scusa."

I ignored the perverted looks I got from the Mercenaries and handed over my weapons and robes. I only had my leggings on, but luckily I had an undershirt on that Bartolomeo said I could keep on, much to the disappointment of the Mercenaries.

"Who is man enough to fight this young lady?" Bartolomeo cried dramatically. I sent a silent thanks to whoever decided that the theatre was not for him.

Four men came forward, each trying not to stare at my chest. I was close to hitting them already.

"Ah! Si, si! Gentlemen, place your bets!" Bartolomeo went to tally, and when he was finished, it looked like the Mercenaries favoured their men better than they did me. They'd learn soon enough.

"And now…" Bartolomeo grabbed the bell and rang it. "Fight!"

The four men ran at me. One leapt at me to tackle me to the ground, but I lazily brought up my foot and kicked him hard in the face. He landed in a heap before me. A second Mercenary jabbed at my gut, while a third tried to take out my legs. I deflected the second man with my elbow and then jumped, dodging the third man and kicking the second's face in the process. I landed on top of the fourth man's head and smashed him into the ground, then backflipped and caught the third man's fist before it hit my back. As the first man started to rise, I backed-up until I was in front of him and let the third Mercenary attack me. I ducked, and the third hit the first in the face, knocking him out. I swept my legs under the third Mercenary and tripped him, then stood up and slammed my foot onto his chest. He was definitely winded, and none of them were getting up.

The room was quiet for a second before cheers and moans of loss erupted through the small room. Bartolomeo gave me my share of the winnings and smiled proudly.

"Ben fatto, amico mio!" Bartolomeo exclaimed. "Tell me, what is the name of the young lady who defeated four of my best men in under ten seconds?"

"It was that long?" I frowned. "Maledizione. I'm getting rusty." Nonetheless, I smiled and shook Bartolomeo's hand firmly. "My name is Sofia. I work closely with Ezio Auditore." _Best__to__leave__my__last__name__out__for__a__bit__…_ I thought.

"I thought I recognized those robes," the older man said with a smug look on his face. "How is Ezio?"

"Fine. Just taking care of the last bit of Borgia influence," I told him. "Best not to tell him I've been here, okay?"

Bartolomeo shook his head. "I cannot do that. If he comes looking for you, I will not deny that you've been here, but I can answer honestly that I do not know where you are going."

I nodded. "Va bene. You're right." I quickly put all my clothes back on and equipped my weapons. "I just needed to vent for a moment. When I get frustrated, I feel like I need to kill something."

"That usually happens to me as well. Nothing like beating people up, eh?" Bartolomeo smiled and handed me my bag, which he'd seemed to have brought down from upstairs. "I got word that Ezio's on his way here to look for you. Best you be on your way, Sofia."

I took the bag and nodded. "Grazie, Bartolomeo. See you another time then." He waved as I trudged up the stairs. "Addio, Sofia! Safe travels!"

I walked out into the cool night air and sighed. _Altair,__I__think__its__time__I__pay__you__a__visit._


End file.
